Forbidden Snowflake
by cyle
Summary: I love him but I should not. I must keep my silence but it's too painful. He is so beautiful.


Disclaimer: nothing is mine, everything belongs to dear old J.K

Further Disclaimer: even the story isn't mine. It's a translation of stellamoon's Joyeux Noel Hermione (sue me for lack of inspiration)

N/A: Hermione is in her 5th year at Hogwarts and she arrived at 12 Grimmauld Place the same night as Harry and Ron, when Mr.Weasley was attacked.

Now, I'm usually a fervent R/Hr shipper but this fic is really good so I had to translate it.

Rating: PG

_Forbidden Snowflake_

I'm contemplating him and he does not see. He is talking to Harry. Of what, I do not know. I am much too entranced by his presence to care. He is...beautiful... At this instant he is only wearing black trousers and his wizard robes casually flung over his shoulders, leaving a glimpse of his muscled torso. And that wisp of dark and shiny hair that falls into his eyes is building an irresistible urge to run my fingers through his hair. The only thing is...I can not. I should not be thinking these thoughts. They are painful. He is painful. Painfully beautiful.

He turns his head towards me; I take a very sudden interest in my notes. I am supposed to be doing a Transfiguration essay. My face is on fire. I am blushing and I pray it can not be seen. Is he going to stare at me any longer. I can't believe how nervous he is making me. I feel a ridiculous fear creeping into me that he can read my mind. He finally looks away. That is when I realise that my notes are not actually facing towards me.

I was talking to Harry of Arthur's attack when I suddenly had the unsettling sensation of someone watching me. I turned my head but there is no one, except Hermione who's eyes flick quickly down towards her notes. However I can feel that something is not right. The air in the room seems suddenly thick with tension. I suddenly realise what is nagging me. Hermione. Under her wild hair her face is flushed and she seems tense. But there is something else that I can't define. She...I don't know. She seems lost in another world and hardly concentrated on her studying. What is she studying by the way? Hum...ah, Transfiguration! "The animagus form that a wizard adopts is extremely revealing of his fundamental nature. It is strange to note that if this is applied to a wizard's Patronus charm, these two forms are not necessarily..." Wait a minute. How come I can read what she's written? So that's what isn't normal...her notes are facing towards me! She must be very distracted. Actually, she's been very strange for quite sometime now. I heard Kreacher muttering that she comes down to the kitchen at night to think. "And sometimes, the Mudblood cries" he said with his smug perverse satisfaction. There are days when I would gladly satisfy his greatest ambition and nail his head to the wall. Another time. Tonight I'll try to understand what is troubling Hermione lately, even if it's probably just Arthur's accident that's worrying her.

Damn she's seen me staring at her. Idiot! I must be making her nervous gawping at her like this. I turn back to what my godson is telling me.

I wait till everyone is asleep. For now, I can still hear Harry and Ron whispering behind the thin wall that separates their room from mine and Ginny's. Who seems to be having a terrible nightmare again. I look on her helplessly. To each of us our demons, I suppose. But some seem so much worse than others. I feel guilty for my trivial worries. Harry and Ron have finally gone silent. I wait a few more moments to be sure they're asleep, then I stand up quietly. I climb down the stairs cautiously making as little noise as I can. Sirius' mother is snoring loudly behind the curtain that covers her portrait. I slip by her, holding my breath. Waking her up would be disastrous. Suddenly, I stop. Two eyes shine malevolently as they fix me; it's only Kreacher roaming the house at night in his usual malignant way. As usual he is muttering to himself. I have time to hear a bitter "...Mudblood. Oh, if only my dear mistress knew! The master is nothing but a filthy blood traitor...". He disappears into the sitting room. I wonder briefly if my plan to reform him is possibly futile. I sigh dejectedly and continue my perilous journey to the kitchen. I barely miss falling over an Extendable Ear. Perilous indeed. Cursing Fred and George to eternity, I make the few last steps to the kitchen door. Which is open. When I reach the threshold my curiosity dies abruptly and I stand stock-still in surprise.

Sirius sits there, leaning onto the oak table. His ebony hair falls gracefully over his face. He holds a mug, warming his hands, and seems lost in his thoughts, staring into his tea as if it held the answer to all the discord in the world. A rather endearing image, I thought, and smiled. I find the courage somewhere in my frantic self to walk into the room, true Gryffindor that I am. Sirius lifts his face to me and a fleeting expression of silent and deep astonishment crosses his eyes. It goes before I can feel puzzled at his surprise. It was as if he had never seen me before. Maybe he hasn't I thought wryly, like Ron. However, now Sirius addresses me with concern.

"I was waiting for you." I am startled. "You seemed perturbed this afternoon. I'd like to know what is worrying you."

I am now sitting, facing him. He looks at me with kind eyes, tilting his head to the side, making his gaze ever more intense. I glanced away and stay silent.

"I'd like to help you. I know something is wrong so please tell me...you look so sad these days."

I keep my silence. I would like you to help me too, Sirius. There isn't much more I could desire. What can I say to you? Yes, Sirius, it's true, I am perturbed. Because of you. Because every time I see you I want to feel your touch, your caress, your eyes to capture me. I want to vanish in your kiss, vanish. But I'm not allowed, not even allowed to want my own death when you are near me. So I'll keep my silence.

Suddenly, I feel a hand cup my face and lift my head. My heart skips as I feel his fingertips brush my cheek, my neck. He looks at me with concern. His open, almost desperate gaze captures me and I am lost in his dark eyes. How is a man beautiful? A man is handsome or good-looking or virile or even a hunk if that means anything to you. Not beautiful. And yet. I notice that his wizard robe he had earlier on had been discarded, leaving his chest tantalizingly naked. The delicate moonlight pouring in from the high window paints the smoothness of his skin, making it hard to resist the temptation of touching it. I know I won't be able to endure theses urges much longer. If I stay any longer I'll succumb. So I stand up, maybe too quickly, and start for the door. Just as I reach the threshold, I feel Sirius take hold of my arm. I have no choice. I have to face him. Just to ask him to let go. Just to tell him to let go. But he's so close, I can feel his warmth slowly enfolding me. I'm glad I've never come so close to him before, I would have faltered long before. His smell mesmerises me, a smell so much like him, that cries of open spaces and adventures and wild. I can feel his breath caress my skin as he speaks.

"Hermione, why won't you tell me?"

I lift my eyes to his. A mistake. His lips seems soft and irresistibly inviting...His presence, so close, so intoxicating, his touch, his gaze, everything I wanted and just a breath away from completeness. I've dreamed of this for so long...I lost all coherent thought. So, as in a dream, I slip my hands across his back, pull myself against him, close my eyes, and, in my momentary pause in time, forgetting who I am and who he is, blinded by love, I kissed him.

Reality is a force to be reckoned with. It stabs me deep in the pit of my soul, wound that'll never show but always hurt. I have just kissed a thirty-six year old man, my best friend's godfather, if not father. My eyes brim with tears as I tear myself away from his arms and flee into the darkness.

It happened so quickly. There she was standing by the table and she was...breathtaking, her eyes shining in the dimness, her figure so delicate, like a snow flake, I could not help feeling dazed. And then...barely a word was spoken and she was leaving. It was instinct that made me keep her there. I could not let her cry in the dark. She stopped and turned towards me, without looking at me. And then it happened. She kissed me and something broke in me, an unknown but insatiable hunger that had finally been let loose and that I do not know if I can retain. And now, I don't know what to think. A girl of fifteen years kissed me and, worst of all, I did not push her away. What the hell was I thinking? I could be her father.

I'm cloaked in darkness. In the next room, I can hear Ron snoring, but I am crying. I'm ashamed. I'm so ashamed of myself; of what I've done, I feel as if I transgressed every rule I know. The sentiment of having violated every morale I was taught seeps into me as my tears flow. I could say that I regret it but I don't and I can't. the only thing I regret is that I will never be able to face Sirius without my action hanging over me like a burden. I am ashamed but mostly I ache, as my body is wracked by my love, my morals and my fear of his rejection. Each day passes and each day presses a stake deeper into my heart. To know that that unique moment will never ever happen again brings me unbearable pain. I have proof already that this only memory makes me suffer more than weeks of silent dreaming. That kiss I stole from him is my first, my last; unique.

Dawn is already upon London. Soon the Daily Prophet owl will arrive with its share of profanities. Tonks will rise merrily from bed and trip over the troll leg umbrella stand as always. As always, Molly will prepare coffee and bacon and eggs, the smell waking Arthur, Remus and the boys, who will all come down to breakfast like a herd of elephants. Then, as always, would appear, with slightly more elegance, Ginny and...Hermione. Unlike any morning as of yet, I am dreading this particular moment, to say the least. I fear it, no, I am petrified. After last night, nothing will be the same. How in the world -wizarding or other wise- was I going to confront her? I feel like a pervert, taking advantage of her weakness. I'm disgusted with myself. I must disgust her. I feel guilty that I found her lips soft and that instant delicious. I should have pushed her away. Try to understand what was going on. Act like the responsible adult I'm supposed to be. But instead I relished it and...I didn't want it to end. I'm ashamed.

Morning has started long ago but I don't want to get up. I spent so much time crying that the tears finally dried out and I slept, leaving me in that calm exhaustion after a storm. Now, I feel better. I can hear voices drifting from downstairs. Mrs.Weasley is talking to Tonks in an exasperated tone: "Honestly, dear, once is perfectly understandable but you fall over that umbrella stand every morning! Be careful, for Merlin's sake! You're lucky Mrs.Black didn't wake up ...". The delicious smell of eggs and bacon waft through the rooms. What sounds like a stampede of rhinoceroses in the staircase announces the boys' arrival at breakfast. Suddenly, I hear Sirius' low voice, making my heart stop: "Hey! Stop acting like a herd of crazed mongrels, there's some for everyone!". I finally remember that he too is down there and that, in just a few minutes, I will have to go down stairs. I feel as if I'm trapped in a particularly horrific Muggle soap opera. But this is real and I have no idea what to do. At least they have a script. I sigh.

"Something wrong Hermione? You look like you're going to face a Manticore..."

Ginny. So lost in my thoughts was I, I completely forgot her presence. I can't tell her. I can't tell her or anyone. Although...she probably knows what I feel from her first year. I shake my head. No, that was a completely different situation, completely. Am I not, after all, Little Miss Perfect Prefect? Besides my silly troubles will seem petty when her father nearly died just a few days ago. And ... there's the shame. The shame of loving a man who could be my father.

So I force myself to smile and answer in the most sickingly cheery voice I have ever heard:

"Nah, nothing's wrong. It's just, I would have liked to have finished my Transfiguration essay by the 24th," say I in my Miss Perfect Prefect way.

"Ah, well, that's alright! Got plenty of time to do it before classes begin again. Let's go downstairs, I'm famished!" says she with an ear splitting grin.

Ginny, innocent of any immoral actions, dives into the kitchen like a bullet; I, however, hesitate. I take a deep breath and I will myself to move forward. I strategically avoid sitting anywhere in the vicinity of Sirius Black, as do I concentrate on my plate for the entire meal. I do not dare lift my eyes for fear of meeting his, and, for an instant, I feel his eyes on me. What must he be thinking?

I attempt to hide my nervousness by chatting cheerfully with Tonks, Molly and the kids. In a few seconds will appear Ginny and Hermione. I can already hear footsteps on the stairs. a flash of red signals Ginevra Weasley's arrival, and indeed there she is, somehow already settled down between Fred and George with a plate stacked with food. Then with more restraint, she enters. She keeps her eyes to the floor and sits herself as far as possible, between Remus and Harry. I am want to admit it, but she seems so fragile, so...bewitching. Her wild hair and her flushed cheeks make her ever so alluring. I can't think such things! She's a child! A child who granted me one kiss for which a feel so guilty and- far more terrifying- so elated...

Can I? Can I love her? Can I even think of loving her?

If breakfast was already excruciating, the rest of the day was no trifle. I daren't leave my room for fear of running into Sirius. I think that even an exam has never made me so nervous. Trust men to make you lose your wits! The fact that tomorrow is Christmas does absolutely nothing to alleviate the tension. Everybody is merry and I want to cry my heart out. Songs and laughter come from everywhere like an army of mocking demons. So, naturally my look of complete despair does not go unnoticed by one Mrs.Weasley, the living radar of unhappy souls. She persuades me to join in decorating the Christmas tree with the crew. I nearly fled back to my room when upon entering I found myself face to face with none other than Sirius Black, or should I say face to midriff. He was standing on a ladder putting the star on the tree, while singing some gaudy carol of his. I felt my face turn into a furnace and I accidentally made myself invisible for a few seconds. After everybody looked at me as though I had turned into a hippogriff. They all started to ask what had happened when Moody appeared in the room with an ear splitting "CONSTANT VIGILANCE". At which point I had a very hard time finding a valid explanation because the man was already convinced of an attack from Voldemort. So after having dutifully hanged three baubles and two garlands, I slipped off quickly to my room.

Now, it's time for Christmas diner, as if Christmas decorating wasn't traditional sufferance enough. Mrs.Weasley has just announced that it is ready and I gather from her tone she is not accepting any absences. I still have a hard time persuading myself to go downstairs but everyone is already in the kitchen and I too must go there. It doesn't lessen my ominous impression of heading to the executioner's block. Although that might be more merciful. Everybody is cheerful, and I with my shame and my love, feel a complete stranger here. I don't want to celebrate. Neither do I want to wallow in my trivial teenage self pity when Voldemort's threat shadows us all.

The turkey is excellent, the potatoes crispy, the whole diner affair is perfectly delicious; but I am not hungry. How can everyone laugh when I want to cry? I would like to laugh with them, with Sirius. He too seems morose this evening. He appears even more darkly alluring. However, knowing that he is strained by having to stand my presence during this long meal is unbearable. Am I to blame for loving him?

I continued my usual routine so that no one could discover my distraction when Hermione appeared in our midst. Seeing her makes me euphoric and enraged. Enraged against my stupid self for being euphoric in any way at all. I shouldn't have this perverse fascination and I know it. I can't help craving her soothing presence. These feelings terrify me. Yet I have only one desire left. Blow out the candles, clear off the dishes, flee from the room and leave me alone again to savour the same moment. That protective atmosphere, a glove of darkness around our two souls, so ethereal, I crave again.

Before that kiss I loved her but did not know it. How could I interpret what felt like deep affection that filled my heart not as friendship, as I deceived myself to believe, not friendship but love. If I've conquered many hearts back at Hogwarts, it was nothing more than a game. And then...then the Dementors took all feeling from me and left me with my pain, my hate, my sorrow, my anger for company. So, love...

And now, I know I love her and yet I am not allowed to. All through the meal I forced myself to see reason, to not even look at her, but to know avail; I know I can not separate these feelings from myself. The only result is death, as they are now as sacred to my life as the air I breath. She makes me live. And that is the reason why I am sitting at the oak kitchen table again tonight. Waiting.

I sit on the edge of my bed and I can feel the carpet's worn weave under my bare feet. The alarm clock is ticking quietly in the darkness. Ginny is breathing regularly, having one of her rare peaceful nights. All is calm. Save myself. I hesitate.

I know that if I go down to the kitchen Sirius will be waiting for me. I dread facing reality. But tonight, of all nights I need the soothing atmosphere of the den to think. I also know that I can not avoid him eternally. Ever so softly I stand up and open the door without a sound so as to not wake Ginny. If I must confront Sirius, let it be with no other witnesses than me and him. I don't want to show my vulnerability to others. They believe I'm strong but in front of Sirius I know I'll be beaten.

I climb down the stairs slowly, careful not to let the wood creak. Mrs.Black could wake. Just as carefully I walk to the kitchen door. Which is open again. Light drifts from the room. I fear what will happen but my choice is made. True Gryffindor that I am. A smile starts and dies on my lips. I enter.

There he is. Magnificent and divine. He speaks the same words:

"I was waiting for you."

"I know." I answer simply.

Silence settles in. I sit down as before. I can't look at him, too afraid of what I might read in his eyes. I stare at my hand on the table top. Sirius sighs. I feel him stand up. He is leaving, I know. My muteness must irritate him. My heart clenches and I let a lone tear slide from my closed eyelids. Suddenly two arms enfold me. Sirius. He didn't go...Surprise, I lean my head back to see him. He is standing behind me, his arms around my waist. I see his face lean towards me, so close to me now I can feel his breath tickle my skin. And suddenly, his enticing lips brush mine. I can scarcely believe it when I feel them touch mine again, then I know it isn't a dream. Ever so softly, his lips part while I surrender myself to the gallant waltz of our tongues. But his lips leave mine already and I can't help feeling disappointed. Perchance it was a dream... I feel his lips brush a kiss at the base of my neck, and a whisper in my ear, sending shivers down my spine:

"Merry Christmas, Hermione."


End file.
